


Poisoned Habits

by TC_Stark



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Defenders (Marvel TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Healing, Lemon, Manipulation, Mind Games, PTSD, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Sexual Abuse, Spoilers, Substance Abuse, Trauma, depictions of violence, mentions of past rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-28
Updated: 2018-08-12
Packaged: 2019-05-30 00:20:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15084938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TC_Stark/pseuds/TC_Stark
Summary: Billy sat in that hospital bed, his face stinging from the scars breaking through his skin. His sight was intact, but the world went on without him. With only time and his thoughts, he relives that final fight with Frank Castle every day. He hears the orderlies sneer at him, mocking his damaged beauty. He hears the new girl, who claims she wants to help him regain himself so that he can re-enter the world, never asking herself if he even wanted to do that. She doesn't even ask herself if falling within the traps of someone like Billy Russo was a good idea, but he can see through her. He can see the damage inside.





	1. Th Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, there! Now that my Frank Castle trilogy is complete (It's called The Strangest of Places, check it out!), I've decided to start on my Billy Russo x OC story. I guess this could continue as a spin-off to my Frank x Lexi story, but this will solely focus on Billy/OC. This will take place after the events of The Punisher and deal at first with the trauma, both physical and mental. This is a bit of a dark story, filled with manipulation, dark themes, and past traumatic incidents. This could potentially turn into a bit of Stockholm Syndrome and a case of limerence.

Crawling, weaving, strangling. The scars that decorated Billy Russo’s face felt as if they were constantly growing, threatening to choke him at any moment. No matter how hard he squeezed his eyes shut, there was no mistaking the scratching and carving from the wounds wanting to wind themselves around him. Like shards of glass cutting him, both physically and on the inside. A reminder of not only what he had done, but also of who he would never be again. Nothing would ever be the same.

 

_ “You’ll remember, Bill. You’ll remember me.” _

 

Oh, fuck did he. How could Billy ever forget Frank Castle? Even before this fucking travesty.  _ His best friend.  _ His best friend Frank. How many times did those two assholes spend trying not to die. He supposed they had been doing the same thing the night the Punisher grated his face against broken glass. Just trying to stay alive. In a poetic way, they were still doing it together. Him and his best bud; trying to not die.

 

Dinah must have been in to visit recently. As soon as Billy opened his eyes, he saw a mirror on the hospital table by his bed. What a bitch. As if glaring at the jagged, fucked up looking scars would break him. Yea, he looked hideous. It was disgraceful and he would rather die than live like the mutation he was now. But, he wasn’t going to cry about it. Too much had gone on in his life for him to shed any tears. If there ever had been a time to do show, if would have been at the death of Frank Castle’s family, but he didn’t then, so he wouldn’t now.

 

Since the bandages had been taken off, Billy played a game with the staff. It was called not giving them shit. There had been talks, whispers that he was a vegetable. He made it a priority not to move whenever someone was around. Not to speak a word. Just stare out in front. He would not break for these assholes.

 

Others were near the door and Billy took in a deep breath, readying himself. The door opened and out of his peripheral, he saw the usual security guard who he’d gladly slaughter if given the chance. A fat son of a bitch, always making some snide comment, as if he could get more women looking the way he did, smelling the way he did, than the man in the bed. 

 

“You sure you want to still do this? The man looks like Frankenstein. Face had to be put back together.”

 

Billy wanted him dead. This fucking rent-a-cop had no idea who he was in the room with. How deadly he could be. The murderous desires were silenced momentarily at the sound of feminine shoes clicking in the room. Not any stilettos, more of a junky heel. Like Madani, but it wasn’t her. He could have been struck blind and would still know when the Homeland agent was near him.

 

Finally, the woman walked in front of him and though Billy didn’t directly stare, he took in what he could. A woman in her mid-twenties it seemed, of average height. Olive skin. Sculpted, but soft. Nice figure, hugged by grey panties, a collared top, and a long open cardigan. Her hair was long, curly, and dyed a deep red. He’d yet to see what her eyes look like.

 

“We all have our jobs to do,” Her voice was professional and polite, “Mine is here with him. As yours is making sure that no one can get to us. I understand this man has made a lot of enemies.”

 

The guard snorted, “Yea. Like the fucking Punisher.”

 

With an unwanted smile, she commented, “All the more reason to have you stand outside. Thank you, I’ll be alright.”

 

Though pissed off, the guard regardless left. Billy considered springing right then and there, but stayed still. Like a statue. Like a soldier. He still couldn’t see her eyes, but he knew she was sitting down. She was no little girl, but she was young. At the start of her career it looked like, whatever it is she did.

 

“Good morning, Mr. Russo. My name is Roxanne Downey. I am not sure if you are able to hear me or understand me, but I’m a psychologist. It’s my job to help you regain your sense of self again. Could you blink for me if you understand?”

 

Of course, they wanted him conscious. It wasn’t for any concern for him. No one ever really did. Just like his mother, everything was due to their own selfish needs. Rather they needed him to make sense because this way they could send him to jail instead of actually having to take care of him in the hospital.

 

Intrigued though by this new development, Billy blinked. Roxanne nodded and marked something down, before tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “That’s good. Let me start by saying, I have been briefed on you. The fact that they send someone who is still in the process of achieving her Master’s degree should speak volumes to a man of your IQ. But, I am not here to judge you. I don’t want you to worry about the belittling comments that I am sure you receive on a daily basis.”

 

That was an understatement. People loved mocking him. It was as if he were an attraction at one of those carnivals on Coney Island. People just wanted something to point at and laugh. Was he a joke? Billy needed to get out of this hurt state and show them how wrong they all were. He had been defying the odds his whole life; no need to stop now.

 

“I’m going to ask you basic questions, you just blink if you understand them okay?”

 

Basic was right. Name. Blood type. Height. Age. The shit was boring. But, it had been the only human interaction that was anything akin to a positive one. Unfortunately, the brute strength that Billy always admired about Frank would be the exact thing that would throw the other man into the situation he was in. He never felt more out of control in his life. It was sickening.

 

Roxanne was nice, he guessed. Professional. Incredibly patient. Whenever she finally received her Master’s degree, she would do well. Billy was sure of it. Hopefully, the woman wouldn’t be needed as a pawn in his plans. It wasn’t something he particularly wanted to do, but if it came down to it; he wasn’t going to jail.

 

The fat nosed guard came back in, bawking how an hour had passed and that’s all she would get. Billy could tell the man was standing a hair too close to Roxanne; it made her uncomfortable, but she didn’t make a move to put distance between them. Polite. Very polite. Too polite.

 

“Billy,” She was speaking to him, “I will be back tomorrow. Try not to dwell on anything, okay? We’ll get you out of your head.”

 

“What he needs to be is in the morgue.” The guard scoffed, leading the woman out.

 

As the door closed and he was forgotten about like an old, used up toy, Billy began turning his head. It hurt, of course. Everything hurt. Whether it was stiff or sharp, it hurt. 


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, so sorry that I took so long with producing this second chapter. I'm really intending this story to be a psychological thriller so I want to take my time. Please enjoy!

In the morning, the nurse had come in and opened the blinds to his room. Of course, she didn’t dare look at him, only doing what she went in the room to do and then left. The sun beat down on his skin and he wanted to scream out at the bitch for leaving him, feeling dehydrated from the powerful rays entering the small space. People always thought they were being helpful, but they were just projecting what they wanted instead of what someone else wanted.

 

When the door opened, he could hear the light clicking of heels, soon hearing a familiar voice, “Good morning, Billy.”

 

Roxanne had returned the next day, seemingly right on schedule. Billy wondered if this would be his new norm, though he supposed it was better than being stuck in his thoughts. Doctors had determined his inability to communicate really was attributed to mental trauma - it wasn’t like his vocal chords had been damaged. Apparently, it was all psychosomatic, which maybe the young woman was there to cure.

 

Billy didn’t need a cure. Didn’t need help from anyone. His whole life had been proof that it was he and he alone that could get him a step in the right direction. Any time anyone else intervened it wasn’t good. Frank, his family, and even Dinah, there were all distractions and remotely caring about them had got him in his current position.

Squinting, Roxanne hummed, “A little bright in here, Mr. Russo. I’m going to close these blinds just a little.”

 

At least the girl had common sense. Even though she had provided him with some relieve, he still felt dehydrated. His throat had been killing him lately. None of the nurses seemed to really want to help him out. It was just their medical duty to provide him with care, but it didn’t mean anyone had to actually put effort into it.

 

As Roxanne went to sit down in a chair next to the hospital bed, her eyes focused on the man who seemed to be trying to communicate something to her. Eyebrows raised, she saw his hand shakily lift up, his long finger motioning to the water jug that was on the table tray. Pleased that there seemed to be some movement, the redhead smiled and got up to pour him a drink while getting a straw.

 

Lips barely opening, Billy managed to lift them open wide enough to accept the straw, hating that such a simple task turned into such a chore. Pushing aside the bitter thoughts, he welcomed the cool liquid coating his throat and quenching the thirst he had been suffering from since the idiots who worked at the hospital decided to put him out to roast in the hot sun. 

 

Though Billy remained in his mind, belittling himself over the man he used to be, Roxanne’s eyes focused on the man in the bed before her. Even lifting just a finger was progress, seeing that he was able to communicate through all the chronic pain he was in. It was fascinating in a way to see how pure resentment could be the fuel he needed to recover; every person needed something different to bounce back from a traumatic experience and that wasn’t to say that every motive was exactly innocent.

 

When it seemed like Billy was done drinking, Roxanne pulled the straw from his lips, and sat down in her seat. While retrieving a notebook from her bag, the Marine thought how old fashioned a pen and paper was. How most people would be taking notes on tablets to log in entries, rather than relying on translating scribbles. There was no arguing that his new shrink held no prejudice against him, but there also seemed to be there lack of horror in her as well. Even if she was professional, she should have at least have some sort of preconceived notion about him, but there was nothing in her eyes. 

 

With a smile, Roxanne pointed out, “That was a big improvement, Mr. Russo. I’m sure perhaps you are inwardly wondering how lifting a finger could be a monumental step, but it was. You’re communicating. I know we have only just met each other, but I can say that I think...you could regain your motor skills again. I believe what’s keeping you back is not physical, but mental.”

 

Mental? Was it all mental? If it was mental, then fine. He had been through more mentally traumatic events than this. There were so much he had endured, he would endure more then. Let all the doctors and nurses say what they wanted to, he would get out. There was no more pretending to be a person; if they wanted a monster they would get a monster, but his therapist said it was all mental.

 

Roxanne tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, looking back at Billy. Truth be told, his scars weren’t so bad. She really believed that the staff at the hospital wanted to dig deep into Billy psychologically and be taunting him mercilessly about how horrific he looked, it would break a man who once was so reliant on their looks. That was what was wrong with just taking people at face value, the outside shell could always be altered. She wished to know who this man was on the inside. 

 

Finally, after a long pause; Roxanne began, “You’ve dealt with some uncalled taunting here, Mr. Russo. I understand, you have had a run in with Frank Castle, also known as the Punisher. I also understand from your file that you served time with in while you were a Marine,” Trying to gauge any sort of reaction at all, she continued, “I also see that you grew up in foster care, in group homes. Your mother, gave you up at an early age.”

 

Early age? Try being an infant. Billy so badly wanted to snap. Wanted to say that he shouldn’t be judged on the fact that he was a product of the foster care system. Billy Russo was so much more than that and the constant focus on it was infuriating. He was a Marine, a businessman; he had conquered an unfair system.

 

“Truthfully, Mr. Russo, I took this case because I believe you are a product of your upbringing and I wish to understand you more.”

 

That was a lie. Billy didn’t yet know the truth, but he could feel that Roxanne’s employment here was not entirely due to his condition. If it was at all about him. There was something about her that told him that she was doing this for selfish reasons, but for what, he didn’t know. Anything that had to do with with, Agent Orange, or Frank Castle couldn’t be used in a research paper. So, he would have to find out. 

 

Roxanne took her own sup of water, “I’m going to ask some basic questions. For yes, lift one finger. For no, lift two.”

 

Billy had barely been able to lift one before, now she wanted two?

 

“Is your name William Russo?” Roxanne asked.

 

Basic questions were an understatement. If anything, this exercise was outdated and boring. Wanting so badly to roll his eyes, he inwardly groaned while lifting one finger slightly. Recovery was going to be a long road. There was so much respect for he had for Curtis, bouncing back even after losing a leg. Still, to this day; he did not bear any ill-will to the corpsman. That had to count for something, right?

 

Roxanne nodding, looking at Billy. Even though his face was still and he was a shell of the man he had once been, she could feel how he was on the inside. Though they had never met, Roxanne got the impression that this was a man who had always been in control. Who had made a decision early on to not be a victim and had always presented himself confidently. She almost wished she could have gotten a birds eye view of how a friendship between him and the Punisher had been.

 

Taking note of his response, Roxanne continued, “Were you friends with Frank Castle?”

 

One finger lifted.

 

“Did you kill Frank Castle’s family.”

 

Roxanne’s eyes focused intensely on Billy after she asked the question. Wanting to really capture the moment. In reality, she didn’t want to focus too much on Frank Castle. While she knew that the two had been friends, she needed to get more down into the core of the man. Know who he was. Why he was how he was. And how he was able to convince everyone that he was anything else, but an utter sociopath.

 

But, Roxanne wanted a reaction. And she got one. Knowing how inwardly  it must have been angering him, she watched as the hand started clenching into a fist. Long fingers squeezing tightly, as if wishing that it were her throat that he had in his clutches. This was a hard subject for him and it had cost him everything.

 

As much as Billy wanted to lash out, his fist slowly unclenched and two fingers were held up. Billy knew the truth. Yea, he didn’t say shit, but he didn’t pull the trigger. No matter how stoic he had to behave in that moment with Frank, they were both Marines after all; but, he would have never actually pulled the trigger on Castle’s family. He hadn’t been the monster everyone made him out to be.

 

Now, he would be.

 


End file.
